LMFAO...Why?

Y'all, I don't know why that stupid "group" popped into my head just now, but they totally did.

Thank sweet baby Jesus in heaven that their popularity was short-lived.

A couple of months ago, I joined some former co-workers in a squat challenge via an online accountability group on Facebook.  Several years ago I was the squat queen...I did different variations for a couple of years in addition to walking at least 5 miles a day.  I was in the best shape I'd ever been in, post babies.  But, as it often does, I fell off the wagon toward the end of 2013.  Why?

Carbs.  Oh, blessed carbs.  More specifically, potatoes.  I have never met a potato I didn't like.  Just as it took forever for the weight to fall off, the gain was gradual.  I finally got to a point where I wanted to do something about it, but I didn't feel like I had any time.  I'd start walking or exercising or start a challenge on my own, but I'd either manage a feeble attempt or I'd forget about it midway through.

Fast forward to this summer.  Like I said, I've done the squats thing for a while, and I knew my quads were waiting to bust out of their fat cocoon, so I jumped in.  The variation during that 31 day challenge was so awesome and so much fun that I saved the list to add when I need a little something extra.  It's easy to throw a few sets in while I'm reading something on my laptop or watching the Rangers attempt to keep a hole of first place in the AL West.  The "4's" are my favorite: cross one ankle over the top of the opposite knee and squat with one leg.  LOVE.

When that challenge was over, the next one was an ab challenge.  I did that one, too...for the most part.  There were a few exercises where I lack the sheer amount of coordination to make them count, so I went to solid standbys.  This time, it's a cardio challenge, and I'm kind of just watching.  It seems like a lot of fun, but I was so amped by my progress during those 62 days that I decided to kind of branch out and stick with my squats that make me happy.

So, for the last 25 days or so, I've been doing a squat challenge, a wall sit challenge, and a crunch challenge.  Today I had to do 220 squats, a 4:10 wall sit, and 120 crunches.  These are some of my favorites because I can feel and see the results.  And when I'm nearing the end of my seemingly endless wall sit, I start singing random songs to myself to keep me engaged and focused so I don't slide down the wall like a cartoon puddle.  You know what I mean.

Why is it that my legs always look better when they're up in the air?  Hahahahaha, that's funny.

Aaaaaand we're done here.

Aubs

I'm a total sellout.

It's true.  I have been anti-Apple for as long as it's been a thing (with the exception of my iPod shuffle...that got stolen, and my replacement iPod something...that doesn't hold a charge unless it's plugged into my car because Texas is hot and melts things).  Entertaining myself in the car is the only reason I have ever navigated iTunes, and that's simply because it's the only way I've been able to put music onto my iPod.

So, when I upgraded my phone online yesterday and ultimately wound up with an iPhone, I was sort of disgusted with myself.  I have an LG G2, and I really like it.  I like that there are no buttons to accidentally press.  I like that the front and back cameras don't suck.  I like the size of it.  I'm used to it.  You know what I'm not used to?  A freakin' iPhone.

I'm sure it will be fine.  I'm sure I will love it.  I'm sure it will be adorable and cute and yet another reason why my child hates my guts...because I have one and he doesn't.  In fact, when I told him I'd upgraded yesterday, he didn't talk to me for TWO GLORIOUS HOURS.  I call that a win.

The truth is, doing the whole "iPhone forever" thing that Sprint has does nothing to my bill.  When I hit the two year mark with my LG this month, I was able lower my bill by about $20...and to switch to the iPhone will be about $24.  So, there you go. 

I will hate learning how to use it, and my kids will laugh at me, but we have very little else as far as entertainment goes.  Lord knows the blood moon really failed to come through for us last night.  Also, I agreed to look for an iPhone 5 for my kid (he's footing the bill), so I've redeemed myself as the coolest mom again...although I bet I'd be a lot cooler if I agreed to purchase it for him.

No dice, N...not happening.

This week will be pretty hectic, with a lot of school deadlines for me, and the end of the first six weeks for the boys.  Can you believe it's been six weeks already?!  And can you believe that it's almost October?!  Oh, I can't wait...I really can't!  I need fall weather and temperatures that max out in the 70s.  Apparently, this also means I need to move.  But I won't.  Not for a few more years anyway.

If you know me at all, patience is not my virtue.  It pretty much skipped me and went straight to someone else...perhaps not in my family at all.  I have been exercising an insane amount of patience with someone I care about.  Just because I don't mind talking to someone on the phone or via text on a daily basis doesn't mean they like to...or maybe they aren't available...or something.  So when I talk to someone on Wednesday and then don't hear from them until Sunday, that's a long time.  It's not...but patience, right?  Not. My. Strong. Suit.  And then on Sunday, we exchange hellos.  And that's it. 

To text or not to text...that is the question.

But since I'm an Android/Apple sellout, I'll probably try to over-correct on this one.

Sigh.

Aubs

Football, Faucets, & Funky Moons

Saturday, B had a flag football game.  Since I was unable to attend the game last week, I was super excited to go to his game this weekend.  After a few hours of  baseball practice, N and I both donned our Cowboys apparel and headed off to pick B up from his dad's house.  His dad and stepmom had to attend a wedding that afternoon/evening, so they were unable to be at the game.

And it's probably for the best...because the other team were terrible sports.

One of the things I want to make sure my boys know is how important it is to be a good sport...win, lose, or tie.  As long as they do their best, they work hard and improve, and they're having fun, I'm good with losing games.  N's coach said it best when he said, "I don't care if we lose every single game, if we're playing with integrity."  I couldn't agree more.  Yes, it's fun to win, but when you put winning above all else, it takes the fun out of the game.

Case in point: The Broncos.  From the very beginning, this team was out for blood...and I'm not just talking about the players.  They took their cues from the coaches and dads who were running up and down the sidelines, screeching until the cords popped out in their necks, calling boys out who weren't making the plays, and pointing out all of the flaws on our team as well.  I mean, I know every single player is clearly headed for the NFL, but for the love of Pete...they're 9.  And it's flag football.

They had one kid tackling instead of pulling off flags, and each time they would receive a 10 yard penalty, the coach would gleefully hoot, "I'll take that penalty!  Keep it up, boys!"  What does that teach their team?  Bad sportsmanship.  That's what.

I told B's stepmom about it later, and she said, "Oh man...I'm glad both of us weren't there at the same time.  It would've been ugly."  And she's right.  To a point.  I voiced my frustration to the coach, but I did so after the game.  He was trying so hard to keep his cool during the game, and I don't blame him.  HE was the best example of being a good sport on that entire field, and when the game was over, his team proved that ten times over by having a great conversation about how important it is to learn from each game they play.  It did my frustrated mom heart some good, let me tell you.

Sunday brought a half-day of sitting at home, waiting for the plumber to arrive.  On Saturday morning, I was showering before baseball practice, when the water pressure went super low and started making weird noises.  I figured that N had turned on the shower in his bathroom and the sprinklers must have kicked on...it wasn't until I turned around with a head full of conditioner that I noticed water spewing out of the faucet instead of the shower head.  Lovely.  The faucet was at an odd angle, so I contacted my landlord and he contacted a plumber.  When the man arrived this afternoon, he looked at the faucet and said, "Well...that's creative."

Like anyone should expect anything less from me.

He replaced the faucet, and I was back in business!  I celebrated with a bubble bath and music so loud it drowned out the arguing in the living room.  I think.  I locked my bedroom door and my bathroom door to give me an added buffer from the noise.  That is what you call "smart parenting."

This whole blood moon thing has gotten a whole lot of hype, but it's super cloudy.  The boys and I stood outside watching, but all we got out of it was bug bites.

Maybe it won't be cloudy in 2033.

Aubs

Just call me "Detective"

This fall, one of my classes is all about the mass hanging in Gainesville, TX in 1862.  On the first day of class, everyone drew a name out of a camouflage lunch tote (because we are a very fancy class): a victim or a player.  I had a victim first, but he was a total dud with the most common name EVER.  I requested a new person and got a much more interesting person...he's not a player, he just crushes a lot.

The professor is INSANE over research.  She considers musty basements of courthouses foreplay, and is obsessive over her "person" that she's been researching for years.  She's also a total hoot.  In an attempt to get on her good side (and to prepare for this massive 25 page paper that's due in 3 weeks), a classmate and I ventured to Gainesville this morning to visit the courthouse records.  The county clerk knew we were coming, but was not super helpful.  Eventually, we found our way to the basement and the deed records.

About 90 minutes, 32 copies and $32 later, we had all of the information in the courthouse pertaining to my player and her victim, and we were wandering around the square because...

There. Was. Pie.  And since she drove, I bought breakfast, while we stared at the Fried Pie Company's display cases of all the pie flavors.  We were sitting there talking about random things when this man in a suit and an orthopedic boot came in.  He was pacing in front of the display case, asking questions and consulting his phone while placing a huge order of individual pies.  I caught his eye and said something about "all.the.choices." and he asked what kind of pie I'd like.  I smiled and laughed and said, "Um...apricot sounds interesting!" so he asked the guy behind the counter to wrap up an apricot pie for me.  Then he asked my classmate, and she said, "Peach?"  I thanked him, and told him to have a great day, and after he left with all of his pies, the guy behind the counter said, "Do you know him?"

No.  He just gave us free pie.  It was awesome.

Later, I got an email from my professor asking how our research went.  I told her the search was fruitful and segued right into the story about the pie.  Her reply was almost instantaneous: "I've been researching in courthouses for years and NOBODY has ever bought me pie!!!!"  We're totally going to be best friends when this class is over...but only after because this paper is going to make me seriously dislike her for the next few weeks.  It's not personal, it's business.

Anyway, I have to admit, it was really fun to dig around in the basement and look through the index to find my person's name in all the records.  I had a lot of information: several purchases/sales of land, transfer of property to relatives (presumably before moving to another state), and even the marriage record from 1850.  I won't lie; I did not-so-secretly wish the courthouse would burn before I could research, but that was because I had no idea what to expect.  It was super organized, and a few of the books even had pages that had been transcribed to print instead of old-school cursive that was faded.  I still don't know how I'm going to get 25 pages, but I feel like I'm ahead of the curve just by going to the courthouse.

And scoring free pie.

For the record, it was really good!

N agrees.  I brought home a variety of little pies for the boys.

Must. Not. Eat.

Aubs

So. Many. Feels.

Today is full of birthdays of people we know and love.

N's aunt, Tiffany
N's dad's friend, Caleb
My cousin, Josh
N's grandfather, Larry
A dear friend, Jeff

Sadly, two of them are no longer with us, but this day always catches me off guard when it comes to the feelings that come out of nowhere.  N's grandfather (he and his daughter share a birthday...how cool is that?!) died a few years ago, and it's left a huge hole in N's world.  They were best buddies.  Jeff, who was a great friend to me and one of N's dad's best friends, died five years ago...something that still hurts my heart all the time.  

N doesn't like to have a lot of people there to support him when he plays baseball.  He says it gets in his head and he feels like he has to perform instead of just relax and play the game he loves.  Today, he had a full house, though.  Normally his dad, his stepmom, his little brother (3), and I attend his games.  It may not be all of us, but there's some sort of combo of me and one or both of them.  Tiffany (his aunt) flew in from Seattle today for her birthday with her 4 year old son (she's got another boy on the way!), and surprised N at his game.  For the whole game, her kiddo was cheering N on from the fence...and talking to a cricket.  It was adorable!  My mom also came to her first game of the season.  She's been so busy, and Thursday nights are rough, so I'm glad she was able to come.  On top of THAT, N's best friend and his parents came to check out a game, too!  Like I said, FULL. HOUSE.

He was nervous...I could tell.  He wanted to do well, to give them a show since they came to watch him.  And it was a good game, even though they lost by one run.  They made some mistakes, and their coach was frustrated, but I bet they won't make the same mistakes again.  Practice on Saturday morning should take care of that.  YIKES!

On the way home (a lot later than normal), he and I got into a serious discussion.  He told me he really wished I would find somebody and be in a solid and happy marriage relationship.  He said I deserve it.  He said we deserve it.  And I can't say he's wrong...but I told him that I wasn't sure that was what I wanted because the last relationship of that type went so badly that it's made me afraid.  We were both very candid, and I was sad when we got home because it meant the conversation was over.

Except it wasn't.  He sat down at the table and said, "Mom, let's talk about this.  Please." So, we did. We talked about past loves and future loves and "why didn't you just try" loves, and it ended with, "Dang it, Mom!  Why didn't you just marry _________?"  Kid.  I don't freakin' know.  Trust me...I wish I did.

Aubs

Productivity and the Pre-teen Hormones

I told a friend earlier today, "I really need to start wearing heels or wedges more often...so I don't accidentally skate across the floor at the grocery store and flash unsuspecting shoppers."  Also, this would be problematic whilst substitute teaching at any kind of school.  Not that I fell or slid or even skidded today in my super cute Steve Madden wedges.  (At least one little girl in each class told me she loved my shoes, and a couple of the boys told me they looked like they would be really hard to draw...)

I did a half-day stint as the Art teacher for B's former elementary school this morning, and it was a lot of fun to see all of the familiar faces and field all of the questions about B.  It hurts my heart that we aren't at that school anymore...simply because of the relationships he had with his peers and the teachers in that building.  I know we're in the right place, but it was bittersweet to be there today, promising the 4th graders that B would be at the same middle school in two years, and telling them he would not be back at their school next year.  When I relayed all of the messages to B after school, he was surprised by some of the names I threw out when he asked who was asking about him.

The kid had absolutely no idea just how well-liked he was...even though everyone else did.  It was a proud mama moment.  One of my favorite little girls was almost in tears this morning when she found out I was filling in for Art...because she had P.E.  And it didn't even matter what grade I had in my classroom (I had 3rd, 4th, and 5th this morning) because they ALL knew my B.  There are several Bs in that school, so if there was confusion, I busted out a picture and then they all knew. 

And who doesn't like seeing people you haven't seen for months only to have them tell you that you look amazing?!  I mean...what an ego boost.  Of course, it was "Walk It Wednesday" which means I could have worn yoga pants instead of a dress and wedges, but I had totally forgotten about that, and one of my favorites in the office FORGOT to tell me, but she's felt icky for a week so she's forgiven.

After I finished, I came home and took a 45 minute power nap, which was probably the best idea I've had in a while.  It was just long enough, and I woke up to a slew of text messages from various people that made me feel loved and important.  I managed to work my way through a fair amount of reading while waiting for B to get out of school, then some more while we sat in the allergist's office during our weekly allergy shot visit. 

It's been a pretty productive day, although I feel like there's a whole lot more I could be doing/should be doing/would be doing...except.

I. Don't. Want. To.

Tomorrow is baseball Thursday, and I'm happy/sad we have one game.  Happy because 5 hours in the allergy-laced air is killing me, and sad because it's an 8:00 game which still means a super-late night.  Especially when you're 13 and moody.  Or 34 and moody.  Either way.

Sidebar: I had one of the learners ask me a series of questions this morning that halfway horrified me and halfway entertained me...AFTER I caught him trying to sneak a peek at what might be under my dress.

Me: Dude. Not cool.
Him: You're pretty.
Me: Um. No. Inappropriate.
Him: How old are you?
Me: How old do you think I am?
Him: 25
Me: I have an 8th grader, so I'm older than that.
Him: So...do you like older or younger men?
Me: _______, that is not even remotely appropriate.  We're done here.


Good grief...preteens and their mixed-up hormones.  I always find it funny when kids try to guess my age.  It doesn't phase me when they're way off, and the answers/reasoning they provide are always good for a laugh or two.

You know what else is good for a laugh or two?  Catching a glimpse of yourself slipping on something imaginary and skidding across an aisle in the freezer section at the grocery store.

I mean...not that I would know or anything.

Aubs

Totally Taxing Tuesday

Today has been a day for the books, folks.  I typed a Facebook status earlier (it HAS to be Facebook official) that gave a brief overview of my day and left me exhausted.  Here’s a recap of the recap:

5:40 No, I don’t want to get up.

5:45 Push snooze again.

5:50 Fiiiiiiine.  So, I got up and turned on the water in the shower and stared at the grout between the tiles on the floor and contemplated life.  For 10 minutes.

6:20 Stumble out of my room half-dressed saying, “N, why aren’t you in the shower?  Your dad will be here in 20 minutes!  B, get UP!  You need to be eating breakfast right this very second so you will get big and strong.”

6:22 N stumbles blindly into the bathroom and bangs his shin on the cabinet.  I ignore the expletive.  

6:30 B finally stumbles into the kitchen and grabs a bowl, the milk, and a fork.  Clearly this is going to go well.

6:50 N’s out the door for breakfast with his dad.  B is pondering what he will do in his next life.  Know what he’s not doing?  TAKING A SHOWER.

7:00 “I’m leaving in 15 minutes!” -  Me  “No, you’re not.  You’re not wearing a shirt, your hair is messy, and I don’t have a lunch.” - Astute observations from the 9 year-old.    

7:24 Lunch is packed, shirt has been located, hair is sufficiently smoothed, and I even swiped on some lipgloss.  This is a decent morning.

7:30 B is at school, and I’m on my way to Denton…

I even had time to stop at Starbucks for a Skinny Vanilla Latte, and made it to class with tons of time to spare.  The peace should have been a clue…because once my professor got into class, she literally said, “Pop quiz, hot shots…” and passed out a quiz on the reading that nobody has been doing…the reading that I actually did yesterday.  I was proud.  I thought things were going great. Then she dropped the bombshell that my rough draft of my 25 page paper was due in a week.  Y.I.K.E.S.  In my other class on campus, we got into a delightful discussion about savagery and the early colonies in America and other fun stuff.  And then the “fun” began.

After I sat on the highway for 90 minutes trying to get home, I had enough time to dump my backpack at home and make a pulled pork taco for “lunch” before I went to pick N up from school (B went to after school care).  I took him to get a haircut…a haircut I tried to make an appointment for, but since I didn’t have a particular stylist in mind (because I don’t know any of the names!), I didn’t get one.  So we waited…and it would have been fine, except he had a hitting lesson at 4:30.  So at 4:04, Allison got him in her chair.  I explained the situation, we discussed what he wanted to do, and we were out the door 16 minutes later.  I like Allison.  I dropped N at his hitting lesson, and went to get B from after school care.  We stopped at 7-11 (Oh, thank heaven) and got bottled water…but the poor kid pulled the door of the cooler too hard and whacked himself in the side of the head.  Tears came next, and he was pretty waterworks-y for the remainder of the afternoon.  We went back to get N, took him home to start homework, grabbed a snack, and took off for football practice.  I actually got to sit at football practice and read a little of my next homework assignment, but that was the only resting point.  On any other Tuesday, I’d be dropping B at practice, taking N to his practice, then going back to get B, grabbing him some dinner and waiting for another hour for N’s practice to finish.  Tonight, several players had football games, so we were shown serious mercy.  Even still, we had to stop by B’s dad’s on the way home, and that took forever.  And then we still needed dinner, and I’m happy to say that they still managed to get into bed ALMOST on time.

It’s a “last day of summer” miracle, y’all.

It makes me tired just thinking about it, but I’d be lying if I said the chaos made me mad.  I need it to be slightly chaotic so I feel like I have a handle on all.the.things. 

Tomorrow I’m teaching music for half a day at B’s old elementary school…and then I’m working on my research project.  And Friday, a classmate and I get to go to the courthouse to look at records from the 1860s.  I’m still hopeful it burns. 

Kidding! (Mostly)

Even with all of the schoolwork and the kid stress, I’m finding time to giggle at the random smiles that pop up on my face at any given moment.  Why?  I can’t really say.  It’s almost fall. The cooler weather is so close (yet so far away), and we are solidly into football and baseball seasons.  I was able to spend time with family I see less often than I’d like, and I’ve had some great phone conversations with my dad about fantastic changes in his overall health and well-being.  I have some of the best friends a girl could ask for, boys who give me hell but still let me tuck them in at night (and ask me to cuddle with them), and a heavy dose of optimism following me around.  Oh…and someone who could someday be a special someone…when I see a new message from the "adorable idiot" my heart races, I get a cheesy grin on my face, and I remember that I still have a whole lot of life left to live.

Aubs

Not-So-Obscure Clueless Reference (at the end)

Sometimes a topic will come to me in the middle of doing totally non-related, and other times I sit here, staring at the blinking cursor thingy, waiting for...anything...to come into my head.  Clarification: I wait for something...anything (that I can write about) to come into my head.  I try to keep all of my "crazy" in my head, and only let out bits and pieces when they have something to do with a bigger picture kind of topic.

Today, B came home for the first time in a week, and first days are always rough.  They start off well enough with the picking up from school, snack, and homework, but then they take a turn right around bedtime when he wants to call his dad and stepmom.  I have no problem with him calling them to say goodnight, but I do have a problem with wanting to repeat call/text when they don't answer.  He's almost 10, but trying to convince him that it's not my fault they don't answer is like trying to convince a rock wall to grow.

It doesn't work very well.

When both boys are home, my stress level is on high alert.  The dynamic between the two boys is rough, to put it nicely, and it just goes downhill from there.  A counselor at B's old school once told me that kids test their limits when they feel safe and comfortable, and I'd like to think that's true...but I think he mostly just hates being here.  It's unfortunate, because he is such a great kid and he has an amazing heart.  I just wish I knew why we always have such a difficult time together.  He thinks I play favorites, and I really try not to...but it's easy to see why he thinks his brother is the favorite.

N is here all the time.  We have a routine that doesn't change just because B is home.  Our routine as a whole changes because we have another set of activities to figure into the equation, but N's routine is pretty set.  B is the wild card (something I love, but that also drives me crazy sometimes), and how smoothly our days run depend on his attitude, mood, and health levels. 

This week is off to a decent start: clean sheets, empty laundry baskets, a jumpstart on homework, and an optimistic outlook for the remainder of the week.  I have "For Love of the Game" on my dvd player ("Jane, I want you to know that I was so happy to see you my heart leapt." Siiiiigh), and the only other thing that would make tonight perfect would be...

Nevermind.  Not. Going. There.

Once again, we have something every single night this week.  I'm not complaining, I swear...the busier we are, the better it is for us.  But, ya'll?  I miss my friends.  I miss the sweet family that had to leave us to go to South Dakota so badly sometimes that it hurts.  I'm not the only one.  N mentions T on a weekly basis, and other baseball moms and I talk about them whenever we congregate. 

There are few times in life where you meet people who are so amazing, who fit so perfectly into the little cracks you have in your own lives, but these guys?  They were those people. 

It actually has me thinking about others who have been instrumental in my life: The ones who were supportive, the ones who loved me, the one(s) who got away, the one(s) who stuck around...and despite the bad eggs in my life, I know I am blessed.  I wish things would've gone differently sometimes, but I am overwhelmingly blessed...even if I am going through life alllllll byyyyy myselllllllffff.

Aubs

Calendars are my love language

I have a lot of love languages, it seems...but calendars are a huge thing in my life, and I find myself literally giggling and squealing when I find out that something fits into my calendar seamlessly.

Like spring break.

Let's just forget (for a minute) that it's still technically mid-September, okay?  Give me my moment.  As I was getting ready to shutdown my laptop for the night, I was looking at the huge wall calendar that is entirely too full of words and figuring out who B was with when conferences were scheduled in early October.  It doesn't really matter because we all go to every conference, but I still wanted to know.

See, when I went to school in the same district as a moody teenager, we were always given "Fair Day."  Okay, so it was technically Columbus Day, but we were always given a fair ticket, so the name kind of stuck. Last year, the district rocked my world (homework-wise) and gave them Friday AND Monday off for conferences and "Fair Day."  They did it again this year.  And that makes me sound like a hateful parent who doesn't want to spend extra time with her children, but I'm not.  I swear.

We spent all.the.days. together this summer.  We're still sick of each other.  And then we had a 3-day weekend, like, two weeks ago.  It's so much together time, and that's fantastic, BUT we are still pretty full on our quotas of "family time."  Luckily, there will be baseball and football practices and games to keep us occupied, and I'm not going to be disappointed about turning off my alarm for two extra days.

BUT, the part that had me squealing for joy is Spring Break.  Without fail, the boys always have Spring Break one week and I have it the following.  NOT. THIS. YEAR!  For once, the calendars have aligned and given us the same week off.  I realize I'm a grown-up and I shouldn't be excited about Spring Break, but I am.  Deal with it.

The good news about my calendar is that I'm almost to the end of September.  The bad news about my calendar is that I'm almost to the beginning of October, and October is going to kick my butt. 

In other news, my sister, brother-in-law, and mother came over to join N and me for lunch this afternoon.  I made the Pioneer Woman's Spicy Dr. Pepper Pulled Pork, and N was unsure about how delicious it smelled.  In fact, he said it smelled downright awful and walked around the house spraying a continuous stream of Febreeze behind him.  The end result was way worse than the delightful smell of pulled pork. 

In case anyone was wondering, he ate a TON of it.  He deemed it delicious, and although he refused to eat baked beans or spinach salad, he did eat the pork.  And he said it was good.  And then he helped to clear the table and load the dishwasher.  I was worried he might be a pod person.

After lunch, I roped my mom into helping me hang the last of the pictures that were leaning against various walls, and it made a huge difference.  N also decided to hang things in his room...with push pins: two world maps and a couple of flags.  I was sitting on the couch, talking to my sister about Thanksgiving, when he came in and started asking opinions about maps.  I was hateful and mean, and totally wrong.  I hear about maps all the time.  I get sucked into debates and discussions and get shot down for voicing my opinion on the regular, so when he came in and asked opinions, I bit his head off.  My mom and my sister both called me out for being mean, and N went to his room.  I apologized after they left, and he said it was okay.

Then he ate all of the homemade cherry cobbler I'd made for dessert.  Like, literally, an 8x8 pan of cobbler.  GONE.  I guess it was deserved?

I hope it was good...a bite would have been nice.

Sigh.

At least there's almost a whole peach cobbler left.  I did that on purpose...he's not a peach fan.

Mom win.

Aubs

Suprising Aubrey...WHY DO THEY KEEP DOING THIS?!

It seems like each day I woke up this week has been slightly worse than the day before.  Thursday morning was rough, but it was a breeze compared to Friday.

Thursdays are one of our busiest days this fall.  Not only do I have to be on campus on Tuesdays and Thursdays, but I have homework deadlines, and N has doubleheaders several weeks in a row.  This wouldn't be bad if we were still on summer break (Thank sweet baby Jesus we're not), but it makes for some rough mornings on Fridays.  His games are 1:45 minutes long, so when his last game starts at 8:00, once the coach does the wrap-up and we get to the car and load it up and start to head back to Coppell from Euless and inevitably have to grab some sort of food item on the way home to shower and get ready for bed, it's 11:00.  EASY.

This week, N was behind the plate for the majority of the first game.  He hadn't caught since April, so it was a big deal for him to be back behind the plate.  He won't admit it, but he did well.  There was a passed ball he should've stopped and a pop-up he should've gone for, but he did make a couple of beautiful throws to 2nd to catch a runner stealing.  It was a respectable first time behind the plate in a while.  They won the first game, 12-3.  Their opponents were good, but they were better...all around.  They were worn out, though, after the first game, and the second team we played was fully rested.  Their skill level was definitely higher, but they weren't better either...baseball just went their way that night.  N made some great hits, but each time the ball made a beeline for the right fielder's glove.  He was disappointed, but he made some serious contact.  The bases were almost always loaded, but we just couldn't score.  We lost the second game 9-1 (thankfully, it wasn't a shutout, but just barely!), but we're still 3-1 so far.  Next week, we only have one game...but it's the late game.  UGH.  Also, I sneezed for practically 4 hours straight.  Or sniffled.  Or hacked.  It was really classy.

When I woke up on Friday, I was pretty sure that I was a zombie.  N was, too, and it made for a terrible morning.  He got off to school with as little drama as possible, and I went straight back to bed.  No shame in my game...I was feeling worse than I'd felt all week.  Allergies.  Y'all, they're killer.  It turns out I wasn't alone.  B was having a terrible time at his dad's, too.  He missed two days of school (after coming home early another day) and two days of football practice.  He has been miserable.  The allergy shots he's been taking are working, but they leave him feeling pretty crappy these days.

Friday night, N and I decided we were going to bed early so we could get some rest before his practice Saturday morning.  I was in bed early.  N...not so much.  He was a major crankpot this morning again, and I told him "Nope.  Not doing it."  I dropped him at practice and went to run a couple of errands.  When I came back, it was sprinkly outside, and I walked across the field to deliver some drinks/snacks.  On my way back, I noticed two very familiar looking people who weren't supposed to be there: My SEESTER and brother-in-law!  They live in Houston, and I don't see them nearly as often as I'd like. 

I shrieked and took off running across the field!  They came up to Dallas for the weekend to see Garth Brooks (7 concerts, 4 days...crazy man, but awesome entertainer!) for their wedding anniversary, and decided to check out N's practice and B's flag football game during their free time.  We hung out in the rain for a little bit, then they came back to our house when practice was called early.  We grabbed some lunch, and then we found out there was a rain delay on B's game, so they weren't going to be able to make it for the game.  Bummer!

We're going to hang out tomorrow for lunch, though!  I can't wait!

They're getting pretty good at surprising me, and I told her I was going to start being pissy about it (instead of excited) so they'd stop doing it...I'm pretty sure it would only make them want to do it more often.

All part of my plan...

Aubs

Come. On. Fall.

The allergy haze has continued today, and it was so bad that I actually resorted to Benadryl, which resulted in a VERY long morning nap that was entirely unintentional.  It totally messed with my day, and I'm still tired.

So, when I read the article saying that allergy sufferers were mostly screwed all winter thanks to the Noah-like conditions of the spring, I almost cried.  We. Will. Die.  And no matter what, I have to have a real Christmas tree, so we will suffer for our cause.  It has been decided.

Man.  I can't wait to use the fireplace.  I realize it was 97 today, and the days of using a fireplace are in the distant future, but I'm ready.  I was even googling "cords of firewood near me" before class yesterday.  I mean business.

I busted out my Keurig and apple cider/hot chocolate pods for the boys.  I am READY.  Come on, fall!  Sheeeeeesh!  My plaid shirts are crying "wear me!" and all of the hoodies have been freshly washed and placed in the hall closet for easy access.  Let's do this.

But only if allergies can just go away.

I was talking to a friend earlier today about how sometimes relationships just change, about how everyone wants the kind of love they can't live without...not the love they can simply live with.  I knew there was a song with that same premise, and that I had it...somewhere, but I couldn't figure it out.  So, while I sat at N's hitting lesson, I had my phone on shuffle, and BOOM!  There it was.

Good ol' Clint Black.  Man, they just don't make country artists like they used to...I'm not saying all of them are awful now, but what in the world is up with the whole "rapping mid-song" craze that's going on with newer artists.  Luke Bryan, I'm talking to you.  Sometimes you sound like a muppet...but when you rap, there's no question.  If muppets rapped, they would sound like you.  It's too bad, because I can totally get behind "Crash My Party" and Strippin It Down."  Soooooooo behind them.

There's a reason why I skip through songs until I get to the George Straits and the Tim McGraws and the Clint Blacks.  They get it.  They're "classic" to a 34 year-old.  They've stuck it out with the same women for decades...and they still love each other.  Everyone should have love like that at least once in their lives.

Ideally that kind of love will come around when you're ready for it, but sometimes it comes too soon and scares the crap out of you.

Not that I know anything about any of that.

Aubs

Gnarly Allergies

Allergies are in full swing around North Texas, you guys.  I knew it was coming, but I was hoping against all hope that they would bypass at least one of us.  Sadly, we're 0 for 3.

B having issues isn't a shocker because the boy is a walking ad for "allergic to all things."  He gets allergy shots tomorrow, and hopefully that will fix him up in a heartbeat.

N doesn't have issues too often, but when he does, they are easily remedied with an allergy pill.

And then there's me.  I think everyone in class (and anyone I spoke to on the phone) today thought I had the plague.  I didn't feel bad, and I could breathe pretty well...as long as I remained standing.  My professor would be talking and I'd just randomly stand up for 10 seconds, take a deep breath, then sit back down...and hold it.  Luckily, I wasn't alone.  I think I said "Bless you!" at least 65 times in my two on-campus classes alone.

On the way home, I got a call from B's school.  It was B saying he felt like crap and maybe he should come home.  I told him to tough it out...leave school early, no football practice.  He agreed.  And almost an hour later when I finally got back into Coppell, the school nurse called again and said he was just not feeling well and I should probably come get him.

Y'all, he bounced into the car and asked if we could go get Sprite and if he could have about 18 different snacks.  All  of this in the 90 seconds in took to get from the school parking lot to the alley behind our house.  He hopped on the couch and started a movie.

Sick, my butt.  When I told him to get ready to go get N at 3:10, he started the whole, "I'm siiiiiiick" nonsense.  He was less than pleased with my harsh reply: "Dude, you're not sick.  You're not running a fever.  You're not puking.  You're eating all.the.things.  You have allergies.  But guess what?  We all do...and it sucks, but grab another box of tissues and power through it."

Meanest. Mom. Ever.

His stepmom picked him up a couple of hours later and reported that he was throwing passes and having a blast at football practice.  I'm sure glad he enjoyed his afternoon off.  It will never happen again unless he can show me a respectable fever or puke on command.

I rocked my purple glasses today, and I think I like them.  It definitely gave my poor little eyes a break, although they totally messed with my depth perception.  I've always had two recurring fears when I dream at night: One recurring fear is driving a car that only goes in reverse and not having any breaks or way to slow down.  The other recurring fear is having one leg not work right and tripping over everything.

Second. Fear. Came. True. Today.  It wasn't that it wasn't working, but I'm not used to wearing glasses for anything aside from taking the boys to school in the morning or working on my laptop at home.  My depth perception was totally off (maybe it has something to do with the frames...I don't know).  BUT I felt like I was totally trashed and unable to make my feet work.  I felt super low to the ground, and while this might be true anyway since I'm 5'4 (1/2, thank you very much)" I felt like I was matching up with sideview mirrors on the cars in the parking lot.  It freaked me out.

And then I met a curb.  I knew it was coming.  I saw it in front of me.  And I stepped WAAAAAAAY too high.  It was funny (I will admit), and I managed the stairs inside the building just fine...but outside?  Y'all, I think something is wrong with me.  Or my glasses.  Or me.

At least I don't have to worry about them making an impact on me falling out of my bed.  My pillow walls are in full force tonight.  I swear, I'm going to have a really hard time if I ever decide to be in a serious relationship again where I'm expected to share my personal space.

Aubrey is actually Greek for "Does not share well with others."

It's a fact.

From Snapple. (Snapple Fact #63099)

Aubs

Ancestry.com is my archenemy

Listen.  I have a lot of things in my life.  My calendar has all the colors of the rainbow on it, and even some of the originals' sub-colors.  I would get up and count, but that would require effort and I've already done abs and squats and some sort of cardio thing that I quit approximately halfway through because I've already done abs and squats and it's good to have goals, so why do it all in one night?

I'm pretty sure I'm going to wake up tomorrow with some serious definition on my abdomen and long, toned thighs.  It's pretty much guaranteed.

Anyway, I got up and counted and I have 17 different colors on my calendar.  17 different activities or subjects that require my attention. Check that.  I have 18 different colors on my calendar.  Each kid has their own color for school since they're in different schools, and then there's one for the district...plus I have 5 for my school stuff, so that leaves 10 additional colors for a variety of things.  The point I'm making here is that I don't have time to let ancestry.com suck the last bit of life out of my soul searching for someone who seemingly does.not.exist. simply because I have to do ALL.THE.THINGS.

So, this local history class I'm taking is really interesting, but I'm an idiot because I wasn't thinking I really wanted to do a graduate-level paper this semester and the professor clearly had different ideas.  I'm supposed to be compiling information on this person who was hanged in 1862 because he was suspected to be a member of the Peace Party, and Southerners weren't on board with all of that "everybody's free" business.  I may be born and bred in Texas, but it doesn't mean I agree. Okay? Okay.  SO. I looked up this person, and I couldn't find him.  I mean...anywhere...even in the required reading he seems to have two different names, so when my professor asked if anyone had a "dud" for a person, I raised my hand and said I wanted a new one.  She said to email her as a reminder, so I did.  And, ya'll?  She's a hoot, even when she doesn't realize it.  Our email exchange went something like this:

A: Professor, I'm emailing you to remind you I need a new person.  Aubrey (Not Elizabeth)
P: Aubrey (Not Elizabeth), you can expect a new man by supper time.
A: Oh, if only I had a new man around supper time...it would be a vast improvement over the non-existent/invisible one that only appears in my head.
P: I've been married for 28 years - sometimes the man in your imagination is the better option!
A: Haha, I've been single for 6...I have one kid who wants me to get a boyfriend and another who wants me to get a husband who will go grocery shopping first THEN pick him up from school.
P: Oh, I want that, too!  Mine just goes hunting and...your new man is <drum roll here> Jonathan Edmiston.  I do hope he's better than your last one, invisible or otherwise!

Seriously. Dying. The whole Aubrey (Not Elizabeth) thing is because she's determined to call me Elizabeth.  She calls the role "Aubrey (Not Elizabeth) and most of my classmates call me the same thing.  I don't mind...in fact, I think it's hilarious.

Know what's not hilarious?  Ancestry.com.  I don't get it.  I don't get the thrill and excitement of the whole genealogy thing.  I know it really floats some peoples' boats, but it just doesn't get me excited at all.  I managed to come up with a family tree of sorts, but that was after finding the whole "Search public trees" option.

That's something I can totally get behind.

Tomorrow is school picture day for B.  I told him he had to wear something nice on top and he could wear a t-shirt underneath, so as soon as he finished pictures, he could shove it into his backpack and ignore it.  He asked to call his dad, then stepped away as he lobbied for THEM to agree that he should be able to wear basketball shorts.  Nice try, squirt!

Speaking of "Squirt," I picked up my new glasses today.  When I tried them on for him, he said, "Oh, hey, Aunt Katie!" Since he continued to call me "Aunt Katie," I have continued to call him "Squirt."  I don't know which of us is going to break first, but I bet it won't be me!

On the N front, I got an email from a teacher today saying she really enjoyed his sense of humor, but that she was worried about whether it might be impacting his ability to get work done.  I replied, telling her I take his school work very seriously and am happy to be in his hula hoop and nag him to death because it's one of my great joys in life.  She sent a reply saying she laughed as she read my email and said she was dreading trying to get information out of her boys as they got older.  She has no idea!

I think we'll be friends.  I'm not sure if we'll be as close as I am with the ladies that have taught N over the last two years, but we're going to get along just fine!  As an added bonus, it will make N unhappy and miserable, and I feel like that's only fair since living with him is such.a.treat.  He's a treasure.

He's officially on notice: one more email or issue at school and we say goodbye to baseball.  Not only that, but all that money burning holes in his wallet for an Xbox One will go to me to compensate me for a small portion of the baseball shaped drain that has been funneling money out of my bank account at an alarming rate.  I think he finally realized that Mom. Doesn't. Play.  He also made the decision to switch out of Spanish.  When I asked him about it, he said, "Yeah, I'm going to go ahead and say that was one of the top 7 decisions I've ever made in my life."  I'm not sure what the others are, but I bet they're reallllly good.

In other news, I've spent more time than should be allowed watching the first seasons of Scandal.  I'm still not sure I'm fully on the band wagon here, but I do think it's growing on me.  You know who it ISN'T growing on?  My children.  N says, "I don't even know what that show is, but I HATE IT.  What's with all the camera clicks and projector sounds?"  (How does he even know what a projector is?)  B says, "Mom, that sounds like a bad show."  (Kid...you like the stupid shows on the Disney Channel.  Clearly your opinion is warped.)

I use it as a reward system: Watch 3 episodes, read 4 pages.  Watch 2 episodes, read 5 pages.

I don't think it's making me nearly as productive as I should be, but those little blurbs about what's coming next don't really give me a lot of information.  I have to watch to find out if I'm going to miss something important...

Duh.

Aubs

Fall Sports (and what they mean to me)

Fall is my season.  I love the way the leaves change and the way the wind (ideally) is all cool and blustery and knocks the leaves off the trees in a whirlwind of color that makes me think of hoodies and bonfires and cozy cups of coffee and

FALL. SPORTS.

This year (as always) N is playing baseball in the fall.  He's playing for a club team that is playing both fall league and fall tournament games.  I'm not super thrilled about the late games on Thursday nights (it makes for rough Friday mornings), but I can't even lie about how excited I was alllllll day on Thursday in anticipation of the first doubleheader of the season.  The Coppell Baseball Club (CBC) did not disappoint.

So, yeah...they were all pretty nervous, and no...they hadn't had a practice with all of the members of the team in a long time, and there were a few new players (N included even though he did fill in for part of the summer season), but they did us all proud.  They played like a well-oiled machine once they got warmed up, and they just worked so well together!  One of the best things about this team is how much they encourage each other.  Their positivity could put a lot of adults to shame.  And now, a brief recap:

Game 1: (CBC was the home team) CBC was down by 5 early in the game, but got it together and managed to rally for a total of 7 runs, winning the game 7-6.  The boys played hard and had a rocky start, but they came together and really worked as a team to hold their opponents to a single run after the first inning.
Game 2: (CBC was the home team again...yay, coin toss!)  Again, CBC had a rocky start: the pitcher hit the very first batter with his first pitch and walked a few while getting into his groove.  A guy bigger than N hit a triple, so 3 runs scored, but that was about all they did for the remainder of the game.  MEANWHILE, CBC got two outs pretty quickly, and held it together to score 4 runs in the bottom of the first.  The second inning was 3 up, 3 down for the visiting team (all outs at first by my super-awesome first baseman), but CBC had bases loaded in a matter of minutes, and went all the way through the batting order in the bottom half of the second, with the second inning ending 10-3.  The umps finally called the game in the 4th with a final score of 16-3, and the boys were pumped!  We got to go home early, and going home early with big wins makes us all happy!

Friday morning wasn't as bad as it could have been (thanks to the earlier end to the game), so I consider the week a success.  When we woke up this morning for a 9:00 am practice (a "treat" for the great effort on the field this week), everyone was thrilled to feel cooler temperatures and a breeze!  It made the 4 hours of practice go by like NOTHING!  Afterward, N and I met half the team for lunch, aka team bonding. 

I dropped N at home to shower and relax and I headed to football practice!  B is playing flag football this year, and he missed practice earlier this week while battling a sinus infection.  Since their season starts next weekend (GO COWBOYS!), his coach called an additional practice today to get ready for Saturday.  It was awesome to see him out there, catching the football, throwing a pretty dang good spiral, and working on the passing drills.  He is such an athletic kid anyway, but it's really fun to see him out there doing something that he really seems to enjoy. 

His coach is also pretty great...he has a lot of patience and a lot of great ideas, and never-ending energy!  B got his jersey tonight, too, and he was so excited about it!  I wouldn't be surprised if it ends up being his clothing choice for school picture day on Tuesday!  Since he's not playing in our town (he's playing in the town his dad and stepmom live in), I don't know any of the kids, but got to know a few names this afternoon...he's got a pretty good team from what I can see!  I can't wait to see them in action!

My phone was blowing up all day today with sports updates: Starts, Score Updates, Final Scores, etc.  I love this time of year...I love it when the teams I follow win, and I cringe when they lose.  With college football starting (my favorite kind of football...sorry, NFL), and baseball season heating up with the race to the postseason (hands down, my favorite time of the year), it makes for a very happy Aubs...

If only this pesky homework wasn't in the way.  My calendar is filling up, my washer and dryer are full of hoodies in anticipation of the cooler temperatures to come, and I can't wait for fall to FINALLY arrive.

Here's hoping it'll actually make an extended appearance this year!

Aubs

"Stuck in my head"

Remember how I said I had an interesting, albeit highly inappropriate, word vomit in mind and I decided to forgo it in order to preserve my dignity and save me from future embarrassment?  Okay, good.  Me either.

No, really.  For the last month or so, I've found myself listening to a select playlist (of 348) songs as I'm falling asleep at night. I'm not really sure why...the last time I HAD to listen to music to fall asleep I was a little kid.  I shuffle it each time I turn it on, but as I'm drifting off to sleep, I hear the same song at least 3 out of 5 nights:

"You're like a song stuck in my head,
Going round and round again.
No, I can't shut it off, I can't make it stop.
I remember the last words you said.
You're like a song stuck in my head."

I like to think my playlist is has a good mix of country, rock, hip hop, r&b, and classic rock, but it's pretty heavily padded with country music.  I can't help it...and why should I?!

And while I do tend to get a certain "song" stuck in my head from time to time, I try really hard not to because I am self-sabotaging when it comes to me and "songs."  My track record is astounding.

Moving on...today I spent the day as a music teacher at B's elementary school.  The actual music teacher had me sub for her a few times last year, and as soon as she knew she had a training day, she made sure I took her place.  It was nice to see some familiar faces from last year, and even better to know that B had no idea I was even there until after some of his friends were in my class.  One of the little girls also transferred to this school this year, and when she saw me, I got a squeal and a squeeze!  It made my morning!

There were a lot of fun activities, and spending an hour with each grade (K-5) is usually just enough to remind me that I'm built to teach older children.  You know, the kind who can tie their own shoes, use the bathroom on their own, wipe their own noses, and who won't burst into tears if their best friend tells them they can't go to their birthday party because they went down the slide first.

Oh, the drama.  Also, it poured down rain on me this morning, and I just realized I left my sock monkey umbrella in the music room.  GRRRRRR! 

The good thing about some of the classes is that they breeze through the plans we have super fast.  In a few classes, they got to do their own lesson and one of the others, which sounds like a lot of extra work, but it was fun!  Two grade levels were learning about composers and conductors, so we listened to six different theme songs composed and conducted by John Williams.  I mean, there are A TON OF THEM (Something I knew, but I didn't know there were that many...).  We listened to Star Wars (Duh), Jaws (Duh), Harry Potter (Duh), Hook (Didn't know that one), Superman (Never really watched it), and Jurassic Park (Duh).  One of the classes asked if he was dead, so I googled him and said, "Nope, he's still alive and kickin' at 83!"

That made them laugh.  I have no idea why.

Anyway, there was only one class that had issues, and they stuck to my motto: "Go big or go home."  They got a speech from me, one from their music teacher (who stuck her head in on her way to her next session), one from their teacher, and one from the assistant principal.  In my speech, I managed to terrify them with stories of 6th grade and insta-detention if you act up for a substitute.  (They were 5th graders.)

The looks on their faces were hilarious!

Somewhere towards the end of the day, I got a text from my older kid: "You left a spoon out of my lunch. AGAIN."

Dude, drink your fruit cup.  You'll live.  Or walk over to get a spoon.  Or check your lunch before you leave.  I actually thought I was doing him a favor because the only plastic spoons I have are hot pink, but I guess a hot pink spoon gets the job done.

Just as I was about to put my phone away, it beeped again.  Thinking it was N with some other complaint about his lunch, I checked it.

It was the song.

Stuck. In. My. Head.

(Going round and round again)

Aubs

Middle School Sucks

Tonight I thought I'd sit down and word vomit whatever was on my mind, but the topic on my mind doesn't really seem appropriate for the interwebs, so...um...

School started roughly two weeks ago.  Last Friday, one kid missed school with a sinus infection.  He was miserable this morning when I got him up for school, but he went.  His dad picked him up for me after school and took him to purchase football cleats.  Apparently, he fell asleep in the car and woke up feeling terrible, so he stayed over there tonight.  The relationship I have with B's stepmom and dad is a unique one.  We work ridiculously well together.  We don't always agree, but with the schedule we keep, we have to be adaptable.

To me, it's a lot like a marriage.  Clearly, I'm not the expert on this topic, but I'm already putting my Sociology: Marriage & Family class to good use.  We collectively ebb and flow; one of us assumes more responsibility while the other deals with stuff they have going on, and vice versa.  It can come to an ugly head every once in a while...primarily when all of our schedules conflict and somebody has to cancel or reschedule.  A lot of the time this is me, and although it can be an inconvenience to reschedule or plan around something that comes up unexpectedly, I always do it without hesitation.

He's my baby boy.  It's what you do.

The other kid rarely gets sick, but when he does, he knows how to go big.  This year started off with a major bang for him.  As an 8th grader, he has the option to take a foreign language (Spanish) for high school credit.  It's the most difficult class offered at his school, and he's not really giving it a chance.  He's a perfectionist (I don't know where he gets it), and if something doesn't come easily to him the first time he tries, he writes it off and pretends it doesn't exist.  Case in point: Math for the last 2 years.

Amen, brother.  I'm right there with you on that one.

Anyway, last night everything he'd been bottling up for the last couple of weeks just exploded.  I heard things I'd never heard from him before, and all of his anger and frustration was aimed at me.  I get it.  You always blame the people who are up in your business all the time, but those people?  Well, they're probably the ones who care about you the most.  While my boy was in tears telling me that there was nobody who cared about him, tears were streaming down my face as I listened to this hurt and broken boy-in-a-man's-body.  As I named the people who would have his back anytime he needed them, I made sure to choose people who weren't family.  The argument had already been made "They have to...they're related to me."  And as much as I wanted to, I knew that wasn't the time to teach the lesson about how just because someone is related to you doesn't automatically mean they support you."

So, after he finally stopped sobbing and had hiccupped himself to sleep, I turned on the hall light, and looked at his face.  Even in sleep, it was clear that there was hurt and fear and self-hate.  And so I did what I need to: I leaned my head against his bed and I prayed.  I prayed until I was yawning and my foot had fallen asleep.  And then I went into my room where I had stationed my little and looked at his face: peaceful, relaxed, and taking up all of the space.  I crawled into bed next to him and I prayed until I fell asleep. 

When I woke up this morning, I knew three things: 1. Things were going to change around here. 2. N needed today to regroup. and 3. I called his counselor at school and talked to her for a good 20 minutes.

The hard truth is that middle school is probably one of the worst times in a kid's life.  I know it was crazy-awkward for me, but I LOVED the people...one of the major benefits of spending my middle school years in a small, close-knit community northwest of Wichita, KS!  There are so many changes, not just physically but mentally and emotionally, too.  The self-labeling begins, and then the labeling of other people begins, and middle school kids are brutal.

And now that I think about it, my other word vomit would have not only been less "heavy," but also wildly entertaining, albeit entirely inappropriate. 

Perhaps tomorrow...I should have a wealth of new material after filling in for the music teacher at our elementary school!

Aubs

There is no magic number...

What is it with the ridiculous definition of beauty these days?  It seems like you can’t turn around (or refresh your Facebook feed) without seeing a new commercial/video/rant about beauty.  I’m all for playing ball like a girl, and I cringe when I see a supermodel with bones protruding from various parts of her body.

Permission to be completely real?  I could not care one teency little iota about the Kardashians.  There, I said it.  Beauty should not be defined as something that is universal.  Just as each of us are unique, so is our beauty.  It is so much less about the size of clothing we wear, and so much more about our state of mind. 

Beauty is not just limited to us women, either.  I have seen plenty of beautiful men in my life, and while some of them have been insanely attractive (to the point where I lose the ability to speak), the most beautiful men in the world are the ones who light up with pure joy when they see their kids after work, or lovingly show affection to their wives…just because, or who make sure that their mothers and grandmothers are appropriately fawned over.  That’s beautiful.  Men who treat women with respect because they are in awe of women (and maybe the slightest bit terrified) are beautiful.  Men who are dads when they don’t have to be are beautiful. 

There was a song on the radio today when I went to collect my children, and there was a lyric that really struck a chord with me (bonus points if you know the song):

“I see what beautiful is about
When I'm looking in
Not when I'm looking out”

And as I listened, I thought “Huh…”  I mean, wouldn’t it be so much better if we could all take this mentality and run with it?  Don’t get me wrong…I know there are people who think like this.  There are people who think everyone has their own sense of beauty, but globally we have some serious issues with body shaming.  It makes me glad I don’t have a daughter, and sad for all of those who do.

It doesn’t end there, with the female population…my boys have their own issues with their appearances and fitting in, but it’s not even close to the number of issues I remember having as a teenager.  I didn’t get it back then, and it makes even less sense now.  

Women have it in their heads that being a single digit size is the ultimate goal.  Man, when I was in middle school, and I’d read books about the blessed Sweet Valley High twins and their perfect size 6, 5’6” willowy frames, I was jealous.  Don’t even get me started on the insane fashion sense of certain members of the Babysitters Club, either.  That Claudia Kishi…what a fashion icon!  

Here’s what I say: If you’re happy and healthy, then go for it.  Learn to be confident and comfortable in your own skin.  And if you aren’t, then perhaps it’s up to you to embrace yourself, not just as a woman, but as a person who has value and depth.  Because a number or letter on a tag should never define anyone, even though it often does.  

I got into a car accident several years ago, and while I wasn’t seriously injured, I attended physical therapy for a while to get normal range of motion back in part of my body.  When I finished my physical therapy, I was feeling more fit and confident, so I kept it up.  Over the next year, I went from a double digit to a single digit, and I was thrilled with myself.  But when I look back on it, I was miserable.  Sure, I looked great, but I wasn’t really taking care of my body.  I wasn’t eating right, but hey…THAT NUMBER, THOUGH!

As I slowly put the weight back on, I began to have mixed emotions.  I was feeling more comfortable in my own skin as I ate the things I wanted and worked out on my terms…but as I had to pull out the larger sizes hiding in the back of my closet, I began to seriously shame myself.  It’s a slippery slope, trying to find where you’re the happiest; and not just the happiest, but the healthiest, too.  

My ultimate goal is not a number or a letter, but an overall state of wellness.  I want to be happy and healthy and present.  I want to eat the foods I want to eat, when I want to eat them, without having to worry about whether my jeans will fit.  (Okay, let’s be real…yoga pants.)  I want to be healthy and able to walk across campus or on the trails near my house without huffing and puffing.  I’d say I want to be able to run a decent distance without dying, but I’d be lying because running is not my thing, but MAN…wouldn’t it sound all good and goal-ish right about now?  Most of all, I want to be present in the lives of my children.  I can’t really do that if I don’t take care of myself, can I?

So, when I find myself lacking the motivation, I think of how vastly different their lives would be if I wasn’t around.  Where would they be?  Who would be filling my shoes?  Would they miss me as much as I’d miss them?  I hope we never have to find out.  

One of the most frustrating things about the whole body shaming/unrealistic expectations is that it doesn’t exclude anyone.  Someone who is super skinny (we’re talking they can stand sideways, stick out their tongue, and look like a zipper) may want nothing more than to have amazing curves and a little meat on her bones…but maybe she has a medical condition where she can’t gain weight.  Maybe an eating disorder holds her back.  Skinny girls don’t have it easy either.   And instead of being supportive of each other, we give each other grief by way of sidelong glances, obvious whispers, and judgment.  

I want to eat potatoes.  I want to enjoy an “All the way” Starbucks whenever I want.  I want to bake homemade bread and eat it while it’s still warm.  I. Want. Carbs.  But I also want to be healthy.  There’s a balance, and it’s different for each of us.  Somehow, somewhere along the way, I became more worried about how others would perceive me instead of how I see myself.  

Side Rant: WHAT IN THE WORLD IS UP WITH THE MEN IN THIS WORLD WHO CONSTANTLY ASK FOR PICTURES VIA TEXT IN VARIOUS STAGES OF UNDRESS???  I mean, have a little self-respect, ladies.  If you’re in a solid and committed relationship and you’re confident, rock on…but so often I feel like men prey on those who are self-conscious, asking for pictures whether they’re fully interested or not, just to see if the woman will deliver.  I don’t understand it.  I really don’t.  Because if you’re one of the women who do succumb to their requests, and they don’t respond, what a blow to your psyche.  You’re so much more valuable than that.  Who doesn't want to look good naked?  But it's not the perfect, non-sagging skin that makes you look good.  Y'all, it's straight-up confidence.

Remember that you have self-worth, and that there are people who love you and adore you in spite of the flaws you see highlighted every single time you look in the mirror.

Isn’t the way it always is?  We tend to see the very worst versions of ourselves.  Any zit, dark spot, fat roll, cellulite forest, chubby part…well, it sticks out like a sore thumb with a neon Vegas sign pointing at it saying, “LOOK AT ME! I’M HIDEOUS!”  Truth be told, I bet nobody else notices.  We’re far too caught up in our own imperfections, our own billboards of inadequacy.  It’s not worth it…but do you know what is?

Being real.  So be real.  Be you.  Nobody does you as well as you do. 

As for me, I just want to be real and learn to embrace all of my cellulite, thick thighs, and imperfections…and maybe I’ll get there.

Someday.

Aubs